


In Darkness We Ran Wild

by Sophie_Anne



Category: Anne Rice - Fandom, Mayfair Witches, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, F/M, M/M, Mayfair!Stiles, Mentions of incest, Multi, Other, Promiscuity, Really General Bad Behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:50:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophie_Anne/pseuds/Sophie_Anne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Peter have a fling.  Instead of dealing with the aftermath Stiles flees to his grandmother.  Now at the mercy of his mother's strange kin he embarks on a journey that will change him. For better or for worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into the Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> If you have never read Anne Rice's The Witching Hour, check out the summary of the book at wikipedia:http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Witching_Hour_(novel) 
> 
> Also, this is WIP. It has not been beta'd, I'm kinda working this out as I go. Bear with me.

Stiles's finger hovers over the send button on his phone The simple text seems like it's not nearly enough, and in truth it's not but it's the only thing he can muster to say.

**I'm sorry.**

He's frozen, staring at the screen as it fades and turns black his phone slipping into sleep mode.

Nothing he can say will make what he has done any less of a betrayal. There is nothing that he can do that would make his sin any less. Whatever Derek and him might have had, had been on the brink of for so long was now burnt to ashes.

All because of him, all because he let himself give into one pure unforgiving moment of self-indulgence. One second where he stopped thinking about how bad of an idea fucking Peter Hale would be and just simply let it happen.

For once it had just been him and Peter. The rest of the pack had stayed back on the reserve guarding their territory. The threat was small nothing they could not handle on their own. He didn't trust Peter now anymore then he had trusted him back when he had no other choice then to trust him or be left to the mercy of the alpha pack. That was to say that he didn't trust him at all.

Still he had come to respect Peter. Who for all his mind games, was actually one of the more capable betas. That was of course no surprise, after all like his nephew he was born wolf but unlike Derek, Peter had been an adult when the fire had happened. He had years of experience on them all when it came to pack dynamics.

He also was the least stubble person on the planet. Peter had made it a point to make his infatuation for Stiles abundantly clear. For his part, Stiles was equal parts appalled and flattered.

It had been years like this, a low thrumming lust flowing between him and Crazy Peter. Nothing that was ever really paid much attention to by him, it simply existed in a deep part of his mind. In retrospect it should have been something he should have addressed earlier. Maybe if he had he wouldn't have found himself being pinned against the door of a rat hole motel room almost a hundred miles from Beacon Hill, from Derek's pack and above all from Derek himself.

He might have reacted differently when Peter had crowded him, and took what he had been telling Stiles for years he wanted to take. He might have pushed him away, punched his smug face with all his force instead of grabbing onto Peter and giving into the hot pulsing thrum of want, take, have rushing through his veins.

He could have done the right thing. They could have just driven back to Beacon Hills after handing off the rogue beta to his rightful pack. Stiles could have done a million things to avoid this disaster but he hadn't and now he had nothing and no one to turn to.

Anger flared within him, his phone flew across his room hitting the wall and shattering.

His senior year had just began and he had already fucked it all up to hell. Finally, after what felt like hours of inaction he made his decent to the kitchen. Taking the phone off the charger he dialed the number he knew from heart. The line ringing once, twice, three times before a soft famine voice picked-up a sweet slight Southern accent painting the “Hello.”

“Nana, it's me.”

“My goodness, what do I owe this pleasure to. You know my birthday isn't for another month darlin'.”

Stiles couldn't help the fond smile that broke through his face. “Yes, I'm aware of that. This is about something else.

“Is everything okay, you're father hasn't gone off on some...:

“No, nothing like that,” he said cutting off that particular train of though before it went any further.

“This has nothing to do with dad. It's just that I can't be here right now. I can't explain, but I have to go.”

He felt his voice crack, and stopped. Hoped that his grandmother would understand.

“Well then, my baby boy you know you are more then welcome in this house. If that is what you need.”

Relief flooded him, yes that was what he needed. He needed out of Beacon Hills, he needed to be as far away from here as possible.

“I'll take that as affirmation, I'll speak to your father,” she said in the tone she used when a matter was settled. There was no room for argument.

“Thank you.”

Later, after he had hung up with his grandmother and gone back to his room he let what he just done settle over him. This was a cowards way out, but he didn't want to be the hero anymore. He was done doing the right thing.


	2. August

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added some additional tags, and warnings. 
> 
> Also, so sorry for the delay in a timely update. RL has been interesting. Thank you too all that left comments and kudos. Hope you enjoy this one too.

Stiles bolted awake, sweat covered his body, his breathing labored. It was the same nightmare he'd been having for close to a year. The one where the alpha pack had taken him and forced him to watch as they killed the pack one by one, saving Derek for last. Now it burned behind his eyes in perfect sensory detail. 

He felt the summer heat cling to him as he calmed down. His breathing evening out as he calmed himself. August in New Orleans was nothing like August in Beacon Hills. The humidity hang heavy in the air, an almost physical presence. 

Reaching over to his night stand he found the bottle of water he had brought up with him. Bringing it to his dry lips downing it in one large gulp. The heat was something he was going to have to get used to. 

Calmed now, he allowed himself to lie back onto the sweat damp sheets, the mattress soft underneath him. The room his grandmother had given him had once been his mother’s. She had redone it for him a few years before, keeping some of his mother’s things. The dark cherry furniture had been the same his mother had grown up with. The walls a light blue, instead of the peach color of before. A few family pictures decorated the wall, of his mother in various stages of adolescence with various family members. Pictures of the three of them together happy, and all of them healthy. 

The same heaviness once again settled in his chest. Guilt was nothing if not his constant companion of late. Guilt over leaving his father, of leaving his pack, of betraying Derek, guilt over his own weakness. He shifted in bed turning over onto his stomach burying his head into his pillow in an attempt to hide from the world that seemed to be too much for him to handle. Slowly sleep over took him, and he slipped into a restless slumber. 

****** 

Morning comes before he’s truly ready for it. He finds himself showered and downstairs browsing through his grandmothers’ library just as the first signs of life fill the house. 

His grandmother Mary Le Fae Mayfair lived up fully the grandiose Mayfair status quo. Her home a prime example. Ravenwood Manor had been in the family for over a century. It was prim and proper everything a good extravagant Louisiana home should be. 

As a child the place had seemed monstrous, and full of places to explore and become lost in. As a teenager it still felt much the same way. It like his grandmother had remained a constant for him, and a deep part of his mother's memory. Every room reminded him of her, it was bittersweet but he would not trade the memories he had of her for anything in the world. 

“Well, look at what we have here! Lord, if it isn't my favorite cousin!” Stiles whipped around, his eyes landing on the source of the singsong voice. So much like his mother's it was frightening. 

In a flash he found himself with an arm full of petite beautiful brunette. “Lulu!” 

“Stiles, I still fucking hate that damn nickname!” 

Laughing he clutched his cousin closer to him, feeling her return the tight hold. They hadn't seen each other in over a year not since she went off to college in England and he had missed her immensely. Skyping could only do so much, and even then that had been a rare occurrence, both of them so wrapped up in their lives. 

Smiling she pulled herself back slightly but remained in their embrace. Lulu's given name is Julian, named after their great grandfather Julien Mayfair. She was precious; just over five feet six inches, with a slim but curvy figure that sometimes made Stiles forget that they were first cousins. Her hair coal black hair framed a heart shape face, her hazel eyes bright and mischievous. Features sharp but feminine, her lips full and colored a luscious dusty pink. She was beautiful, as all Mayfair females tended to be and he adored her as she him. 

“You always say that, but you always glare at me when I use your proper name. What the hell are you doing her anyway?” His tone to anyone else might have appeared harsh, but to Lulu it was nothing more then teasing. 

“Semester off, need a little break.” 

“You fucked one of your professors didn't you?” His gaze was unforgiving, and she shifted slightly in his arms. Her expression taking on an exaggerated offended look. 

“I don't know what you mean.... Okay, yeah maybe I did.” She pulled fully way from him taking a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs that filled the library. 

“Alas, my darling cousin. I'm afraid that we are two apples that did not fall very fair from the proverbial Mayfair tree.” 

“That was by far the worst quip you have ever made. I'm going to take a chance and say that you have been just as equally guilty of giving into your Mayfair predisposition as I have. Shall I take a guess as to who you are or were fucking?” Her smile was wicked and infectious. Stiles found himself returning it. 

There was a saying among Mayfairs, only a Mayfair understood a Mayfair. Stiles might only be half a Mayfair, but the Mayfair part of him always seemed to over shadow everything else. 

“Peter.” 

“Oh my, that is unfortunate. Was he at least good?” 

“He was, but not the point. It was Peter, as in Derek's uncle. Psychotic, vengeful, and creepy uncle, but his uncle none the less.” He sighed, tired and exasperated as he let himself fall into the chair opposite Lulu's. 

“Well, nothing you can do about it now. Stop mopping, and enough with the fucking guilt. I can practically smell it radiating off you. What is done is done. Besides, now you are here, with me and we are both well overdue for some fun times.” 

“I still have school, and what I did was incredibly wrong” 

“You and Derek weren't together, correct?” Stiles nodded, yes. 

“Really, besides the unspoken intense sexual tension was there really a possibility of the two of you being together? Because let's face it, from what you told me the guy has some deeply seeded, though valid commitment issues.” 

Lulu had been the only person that Stiles had ever confided the truth behind Kate and Derek. It had taken Derek months into their friendship to tell him about the whole Kate disaster, and he had been so full of hate for the woman after Derek had told him, that he had found himself dialing his cousin almost with out a second thought. He had known that she would not tell another living soul, his trust in her absolute. 

“There was always the possibility of us, but I don't know. I always hoped. Now, I know there is no chance.” His voice betrayed him, and he looks away from her piercing eyes. 

“Stiles, I'm sorry.” Her voice is soft and soothing. At times like these it's when she most reminds him of his mother. Their mothers had been twins, identical. Their grandmother swears that they had been inseparable as children. As adults it took an act of god to put get them in the same room. He only knew part of the story, Lulu even less. The core of it had been his mother marring his father, a non southerner and the furthest thing from a Mayfair as you can get. In retaliation, her aunt had married his mother's first love. 

It was all very Dallas, and neither Lulu nor Stiles cared to let their relationship be tarnished by it. 

“Enough brooding, New Orleans awaits us my darling. Let's take advantage of the old whore!” Stiles found himself being pulled from his chair and dragged off to the unknown. 

“You are way too strong for a girl, and I feel as though I should be frightened by that statement!” 

**********

The next afternoon found him waking up in an even more unfamiliar bed, naked and in the middle of two very equally naked and attractive women. He groaned feeling his hangover slam into him full force. 

He eased himself out of the bed, finding his clothes easily and slipping them on. It struck him in that moment that for the second time in a matter of weeks he was sneaking out of a room whilst his bed partner or in this case partners still slept. He closed the door gently behind him and began the trek down the long hallway. Lulu was at the bottom of the steps, in the midst of putting her shoes on. 

“We never speak of this again.” He said, as he walked past her heading for the front door. 

“I don't know what the hell you are talking about.” 

He grinned, knowing full well that she wouldn't bring it up. What happens in a brothel stays in a brothel. Especially one as exclusive as the one they had just exited. 

The adage always held strong, only a Mayfair understood a Mayfair. 

For a moment Stiles had forgotten all about Beacon Hills, and what he had left behind. Now, as he sat next to Lulu in the backseat of their grandmother's town car he felt consumed by his mistakes. A list that seems to grow by the minute.


	3. September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Luadica, who reminded me I should keep plugging away at this. Hope you enjoy!

September rolls in on a dark cloud, that never leaves. The sky is heavy with unshed rain, and a constant brisk biting wind that never ceases. The days passing in a lingering manner that seems to happen only in the south. 

Stiles gets a tutor and spends four days out of the week with him. They cover all subjects, some that Stiles would never had the chance to in public school. They focus on literature, and he learns more about the classics then he thought possible. Some days his doesn't even need his adderall at all. His focus uninterrupted in a way that has not happened in years. 

His tutor, Christian is quite literally a genius, and devastatingly beautiful for a man. Younger then one would expect a budding literary scholar to be, just shy of thirty and wonderfully unpolished. Slightly taller then Stiles, well over six feet and broad shouldered with arms and a chest the scream power. His skin a lovely olive hue that seems to glisten in the sun, eyes a perfect shade of sky blue. 

Stiles wants him the second he first lays eyes on him. He plays with the idea of seducing him, taking Christian apart bit by bit until he has him begging for Stiles to fuck him. The idea latches onto something in his brain and he spends half their sessions restraining himself from giving into the his desires.

He knows that here he can indulge in these deviant little impulses, away from his father and his friends. In New Orleans, he doesn't need to pretend to care what others think of him. Here he can do what he pleases. 

In truth, he could have done this in Beacon Hills. The only thing that had ever stopped him was his respect for his father, and his position as sheriff. 

He would not be so disrespectful as to go around shamelessly fucking his way through the townsfolk of Beacon Hills. 

Now far away from his father, from Pack, and in a city where being a Mayfair meant maintaining certain amount of good old fashion whoring around there was nothing to stop him other then himself. 

“If you don't fuck him, I will.”

Stiles eyed Lulu across the expense of the dining table. Dinner was a semi formal event, grandmother expected you to look respectful and above all to show your face. 

“Lulu, darling must you be so crass?” 

The eldest Mayfair sat at the head of the table, her face displaying amusement at her grandchild’s depravity. 

“Grandmother, you know I hate to beat around the bush. Besides that man is too good looking not be thrown down onto any available surface and ravaged. Really someone needs to be doing it, and I'm more then willing to volunteer. Especially since Stiles isn't.”

“I never said that I wasn't. Some of us have a little more tact then you my darling cousin.” 

Stiles wasn't in the mood for this conversation. The day had started with a surprise phone call from Scott, a short but awkward conversation. The majority of which Stiles spent dodging questions about when he would return to Beacon Hills. 

In truth, he didn't have the answer to that question. He liked being in New Orleans, and being with his cousin and his grandmother made him feel closer to his mother. A feeling he had not felt in years. He missed his mother every day, her loss a constant dull ache. Being with them made the ache subside, at least for a short while. 

Speaking with Scott had reminded him that this whole situation was only temporary. He would have to return to Beacon Hills eventually. Probably sooner then later. 

Christian and his grandmother had already spoken in regards to him graduating early. He studies had been coming along very nicely and he would easily meet the standards set by the state to earn his diploma. 

He was beyond delighted at the prospect but the thought of robbing his father of watching him graduate stopped him from pursuing the idea. So, it seemed that he impending return to Beacon Hills would really be sooner then later. 

What had upset him the most about his conversation with Scott was that they both had been so avid in not broaching the subject of Derek. Scott had been vague on details about the Pack. Simply stated that everyone was fine considering. He didn't ask questions and Scott offered no further details. 

Lulu seemed to catch onto his mood and changed the subject. He was thankful, he never minded her teasing but she always knew when to stop. 

They spoke about the various restorations in town, how both new and old people had steadily been shifting back into the city. 

“Before I forget, we are having dinner with some old family friends this Sunday. The De Leons, you remember them Stiles?”

“I remember Clara, annoying brat that she was.” He had never been a fan of the De Leons, they were too stuck up, and too self-righteous for his tastes. 

Clara was the only child and near their age, but she had always been a nightmare. He didn't expect that time had made her any less of a petulant child. 

“Oh, dearest cousin you must really have not seen our Clara lately. You'll eat your words soon enough.” 

He looked between his grandmother who hide a smile behind a sip of wine, and his cousin who just smiled sweetly at him. 

Stiles suddenly found himself annoyed, and frustrated. He didn't care for the games that came with being a Mayfair. They could been fun, and for a short time you could loose yourself in them. After awhile you just simply saw through them. 

For a moment he let himself think of Derek. Let himself miss him, think about what he may be doing. They had been spending so much time together the last few months. Not just researching, or on the verge of death. They would spend hours in Derek's apartment. He would study, and Derek would read or work on the restoration of the Hale house. 

They would make dinner, watch movies, listen to music. Spend hours just talking, about everything, things Stiles had never shared with any one. They spoke about their families, his mother, and Derek's family. 

He had realized along the way that he had fallen for Derek. Sometime in the countless days and nights they had spent together Derek had changed from the asshole that pushed him against walls and threatened him, to the guy he could talk to about anything. Who would text him in the middle of the day as if he could sense his mood and say something that would make the day better. 

He knew, just knew in his bones that Derek had felt the same. So he had waited, and waited for Derek to make a move. He couldn't do it, after everything that had happened to Derek. He knew that Derek had to be the one that made the first move. 

But Derek never had.

Unlike Peter, and Stiles had been tired of waiting. He had been selfish and stupid. 

Derek would never forgive his betrayal.

“I'm not feeling well, I think I'll go for a walk.” 

“Alright dear, just be careful.” His grandmother gave him a small smile as he rose from the table. Lulu offered only a concerned look before turning back to her conversation with their grandmother. 

He walked without purpose, or at least what he thought was without purpose. It wasn't until, he knocked on Christian's door that he realized what his intentions were. 

Christian opened the door in a faded t-shirt and worn jeans that hung low on his hips. “Stiles is everything alright?” His voice was full of concern, his brow creased in worry. 

Stiles moved on instinct, buried the voice inside his head that told him what he was doing was wrong. That he was simply using this man to avoid dealing with what he had done. He buried that voice as deep as he could, beneath mountains of things that could have been and never would be. 

Used his body to move Christian into his apartment, shoving the door closed with his foot as he went. It all seemed to happen in flashes for Stiles one moment he had Christian pressed against the wall, his mouth hard and insistant against the other man's. The next moment found him naked, and in bed with this man, their bodies grinding against one another. 

Pulling his mouth away, and moving his way down Christian's body seemed surreal. As if he was seeing himself from the outside. 

“Can I fuck you?” His voice was rough even to his own ears. 

“Yes, god yes.” 

Sensations penetrated his haze, opening Christian up with his fingers and mouth. Taking him apart just as he had fantasized until the other man was nothing more then a wrecked begging mess by the time he finally slid inside him. Christian was tight, and hot around his cock. 

It was almost too much, and no where near enough. All he could do was fuck this man without abandon. Take him by the hips in a bruising grip and thrust into the willing body beneath him without mercy. 

Christian braced his hands on the wall above him, matching Stiles intensity. He came this way, screaming his release as Stiles continued to fuck him. Ass tightening around Stiles’ cock, pushing him towards his own orgasm. 

Hours later Stiles laid awake listening to Christian sleep. His mind replaying everything. He sighed, rubbing his hands roughly through his hair. It was pointless to try to sleep, he rose quietly and quickly from the bed. Picking up his scattered clothes as he made his way out of the bedroom. He dressed and slipped out of the apartment. Relieved to feel the cool night air on his skin. 

The house was still as he let himself in, making his way through the darkness to his room. Closing the door gently behind him, he flipped the light on the small desk on. Its soft golden light flooding the room. 

He didn't think about what he was doing, just took a plain piece of paper and began to write. Wrote all that he had been feeling, all that he had wanted to happen for Derek and himself. How he had hoped, and waited, and grown unsure. How he had stopped hoping, and how he had let himself fall into temptation. He made no excuses for his behavior, just laid his soul bare. 

It wasn't until he had finished, that he realized what he had done. 

He slipped the letter into an envelope quickly addressing it, doing all of this before he could stop and think about what he was doing. 

He made his way to the post office, an intense determination in every step. 

All or nothing. 

It seemed so very rom-com cliche, but he was out of options and out of ideas. Maybe, if he laid it all out for Derek he would understand. Maybe he would find a way to forgive him. 

As he slide the letter into the mail box, Stiles felt hope for the first time in weeks. 

Maybe, just maybe not all was lost.


End file.
